


conversations on a hill in los santos

by agentmaine



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Fluff and Angst, GTA AU, M/M, Work In Progress, mention of suicidal-type thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmaine/pseuds/agentmaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a dark night on a hill in Los Santos, and Tucker and Wash sit togeyher on their one month anniversary. Or, close enough to one month for them to be allowed to celebrate it with drinks. And with alcohol and bottled up emotions, Tucker questions the point of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	conversations on a hill in los santos

**Author's Note:**

> heyo!!! this is a really short mini-fic type thing mainly as an experiment to see what people think. I have a whole lil world for this au and a lot of plot ideas but I thought I'd see what people think of this little extract first? Any comments and kudos are v apprecaited, and I hope you enjoy this bc it's so fun to write!

“Do you ever wonder why we're here?”

“You're stealing the Reds’ line, Vern. Which one of them is it that says that again? I know it's one of the married ones – sometimes it's hard to tell them apart, I swear.”

“Screw you, man. I'm being serious.” Tucker says, grumpily.

They're sat out in the hills of Los Santos, right where they can see the lights from the city below them. They sit in the back of an old pickup truck they stole as a makeshift getaway vehicle, pressed close with a thin blanket resting over them. Considering that they just blew up one of the Merc’s supply bases, the sensible thing would be to get to a safehouse. But it's technically their one month anniversary and Tucker refuses to have brought nice booze out for nothing.

“Okay, fine. I'll let you be serious.” Washington chuckles, the alcohol already in his system making laughter come easier and _god_ does Tucker hate that this fucked up ex-freelancer has a laughter that sounds like sunlight.

“Thank you, asshole.” Tucker continues. He reaches to take the bottle of vodka from Wash’s hands, letting the moment of contact between them linger for a second before he pulls back and takes a drink. “I mean it. Do you ever think that hell, maybe all this is fucking pointless? That there's no point in us being here?”

“Here is a subjective term, Tucker. What do you mean?” Wash turns more towards Tucker, adjusting himself to wrap an arm around Tucker’s waist, his hand resting just under the other's shirt. He never says it, but skin-to-skin contact helps him feel less alone – less scared.

“I mean – shit. Every sense of the stupid subjective word. Here as in alive. What's the fucking point? All we do is kill other people and hope we get paid for it. We've nearly died like a billion times just these past six months. First time we met I nearly died! Do you think God is trying to give us a hint? Like. _Hey, jackass, die already. Time for you to rot in hell, or whatever._ ”

“Tucker...” Wash says. His voice goes so soft that it makes Tucker flinch slightly, before pressing himself closer into Washington's side. Anything to not have to look at his face. Worried is Tucker’s least favourite expression to see on Wash. Wash holds him closer, pressing a kiss against his head.

“Hear me out. I mean, yeah, here could mean alive. What the fuck is the point and all of that depressing bullshit. But it could also mean here as in here. Los Santos. This fucking city… What has it ever done for us? We don't owe it shit, Wash. We could leave. We could get in this car right now and drive the fuck away. Get a plane across the world. Fuck off to Europe or wherever. Anywhere. Together.” Tucker rambles, voice loud and bold while everything else is distant and quiet.

Wash looks at him and sighs. There's a light in his eyes, one that's getting rarer and rarer these days. Wash sighs because he's going to ruin it. “Tucker, you know we can't. What about the crew? The mercenaries?” He pauses to pull Tucker closer again, impossibly closer, because he knows this is going to hurt.

  
“You cant give up on your son like that.” Wash near whispers, moving his hand to rest on Tucker’s cheek. Tucker spends the next few minutes in silence.

“Let's… Not talk about this. Please. I mean, not tonight anyway. It's our month anniversary. Or, a month since we kissed and actually talked about it after.” He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Wash brushes his thumb across his cheek.

“Yeah. Best thing to happen to me in a long while.” Wash says, leaning in and kissing Tucker lightly before looking at him again. “Hey.. I can't tell you why we're here. But… Can I tell you something else?”

Tucker nods. “Sure. Hit me. Unless it's depressing, then fucking save it.”

“Not depressing.” Wash chuckles. “It's, uh… My name is David. David Washington.”

“Oh, uh. Wow. Shit.” Tucker says. “Nobody else knows that, right?”

“Right. You're the only one.”

“And it's taken you seven months.”

“Yeah. Seven months and a few weeks, I guess.”

“Shit.” Tucker says, and he sounds dumbfounded. “Is that… Is that your way of saying I love you?”

“Oh.” Wash blinks a few times, looking at Tucker and thinking for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”

Tucker grins then – properly this time – and leans up to kiss Wash. To kiss _David_. He moves back and rests against him after a moment.

“Cool. Love you too, David.” 


End file.
